


Nutmeg and Snowflake

by BabyChocoboAlchemist



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Love, M/M, Multi, Post Episode Prompto, Pre-Ignis Month, Prompto Protection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 01:25:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12783930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyChocoboAlchemist/pseuds/BabyChocoboAlchemist
Summary: "You may be completely oblivious to your worth but you are the light that holds us together. Our soul. And if you even think of mentioning your background I'll gut you."Post Episode Prompto. Prompto awakens at Ignis' side in the wake of devastation, tragic revelations and captivity. He reflects on feelings he believes a monster like him shouldn't have, but a certain chef quickly sets things right.





	Nutmeg and Snowflake

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, and thank you for coming. I'm more than happy to have you become a part of this adventure.
> 
> In brainstorming the events of this piece, I watched the Assassin's Festival cutscenes and Aranea's pep talk to Prompto. I've seen about fifteen seconds of Episode Prompto because I believe watching the entire DLC would just kill me. Especially with Robbie Daymond doing a killer job as Prompto. I know I should watch it at some point, but that's another monster for another day.
> 
> I imagine Prompto having a schoolboy crush on Ignis-the kind of crush the clumsy, nervous main character of a school anime has on the heroine. After seeing a half-naked Ignis at the Assassin's Festival Prompto would squeal to Noctis: "Dude. He had me in his arms without a shirt on. I totally died. Seriously." Prompto is Raku Ichijo and Ignis is Onodera.
> 
> Ignis says a quote inspired by Pokémon: The First Movie. See if you can catch it!

_Nutmeg and cinnamon danced through the calm morning air, foretelling the arrival of a crispy Winter. A soft wind, gentle blues brushing the sky and the melody of a maestro at work all conspired to usher in a new day. And it was the morning magic Prompto associated with Ignis, especially the maestro's fragrant herbs. It seemed as though Noctis' caretaker could manifest magic out of thin air, able to compose masterpieces with very little on hand. On a morning kissed by nutmeg and an oncoming Winter, he seemed to be hard at work making-pancakes? With what would definitely be the greatest syrup in all of Insomnia's history?_

_Prompto had been capturing memories of the rolling hills and serene skies, but Ignis' awakening commanded attention from the Astrals. The divine guardians of time, space and fate were shamed by the mortal made of stardust and morning-a breath of fresh air that would be a real shame to miss. No photographer worth their salt would even think of missing the Scientia's awakening. Whether Iggy had his heart settled on practicing swordarts or preparing a masterpiece, he himself was an unfolding masterpiece. Photographs of the unraveling miracle were taken in secret, with the photographer not wanting to disturb the delicate balance between the morning innocence and blessing. Once enough memories of the morning's mystique were taken, curiosity compelled Prompto to sidle up and ask: "What'cha makin', Iggy?"_

_Nothing could convince Noctis to believe Ignis wasn't an Astral. Neither Prompto or Gladiolus did anything to discourage that belief, having seen more than enough evidence to cement that belief as fact. As an Astral, Ignis had full command of the heavens-proven by the lightning and thunder that scorched Prompto's insides when the chef looked up from his work. "Hotcakes, little one," came the warm response. It was at that moment a galaxy of fragrances and sensations struck the photographer all at once._

_"I hope to capture the wonder of the upcoming holiday season this breakfast. I know there's still quite some time before the festivities, but we are in dire need of relief. So a festive breakfast it is. I do hope you enjoy it, Sunshine."_

_The chef's eyes returned to the ingredients at hand, determined to transform them into a breakfast none of them would forget. For a moment that was surely an eternity, it was impossible for Prompto to breathe._

That wasn't the first time Ignis made it impossible to breathe, and it definitely wouldn't be the last. A certain stupid photographer may have had an ridiculous crush on Noctis' babysitter way back when, but as time went on, Prompto was sure he was living with a miracle. Witnessing life in all of its grace and radiance, all of it breathing through the chef that seemed mortal. Living with someone that put Shiva to shame was definitely a lot harder than challenging the Kings of Old. The challenges on Noctis' shoulders weren't anything to take lightly, but always being so close to infinite beauty wasn't a walk in the park either. Prompto would've preferred switching places with his old friend.

Especially when a secret was taken into consideration. 

Committing treason on a daily basis was surely a crime punishable by death. Sure, Noctis went out of his way to help but only ended up making his life miserable. Sending a speechless, rosy-cheeked photographer off to market with Ignis on several occassions wasn't ever any help. Neither was having the chef 'accidentally' fall on top of him after a battle (don't ask). Having him paired with Ignis in one of Lestallum's suites was definitely the icing on the cake. The Innkeeper apologized about not having a room big enough for four-but hey, there were rooms big enough for groups of two. So Noctis did what any warm, supportive friend would do in dark, painful hours.

"Dibs on Gladio."

"You wouldn't mind rooming with me, Sleeping Beauty?"

"Not at all, sweetie pie. Why would I when you're the apple of my eye?"

"You flatter me, honey."

"I love you too, sugar buns."

Ignoring a distressed chocobo's wails, the two of them practically skipped off to their room. Oblivious to why Prompto was shouting 'I hate you, Noctis', Ignis retrieved their luggage and turned to the photographer with an inquisitive look. 

"Shall we?"

They proceeded to 'shall' and Prompto proceeded to spend the rest of the night in misery. Ignis couldn't figure out why the photographer kept tripping over himself, but the chef's oblivious state didn't lighten the gunner's chest. Being given a moment to breathe would've been enough, just a moment, but no. The Six must've found his misery amusing, because the entire night seemed to last an eternity.

Easy to assume they were amused by a filthy, dirt-sucking robot committing treason.

Just when Prompto believed the Astrals couldn't have a bigger laugh, the Assassin's Festival arrived. Ignis drove the closer to the festival as the air smelled of firewood and spice. They arrived, bounded out of the car, and Prompto proceeded to faint over the sight of a half-naked Ignis. The photographer left them the second Ignis emerged, clad in an Assassin gear. Noctis was immediately beside himself with grief, deeply concerned for the friend he had grown to love so much. "Oh no, my poor little brother," he mourned. "All of the excitement got to him. Why don't you help him up, Ignis?"

"Me?" the chef asked, not at all against helping their chocobo but confused by the request, as Gladiolus was closer to Prompto's limp, unconscious form. "All right then."

So Ignis proceeded to lift Prompto into his arms. Prompto stirred and proceeded to unleash an ear-splitting scream, then proceeded to fall back into darkness. When the photo-taking chocobo awakened a second time, he found Ignis clad in Altair's uniform-all due to Gladio's courtesy, as Prompto screaming like a bird would only be funny once. "Can't keep tormenting the bird, sweet cheeks," Iris' brother scolded the prince, patting him on the head. Ignis remained just as oblivious as the bird, deeply concerned about his friend but completely unaware of why him being half-naked horrified the photographer. The Assassin's Festival unfolded in all of its exciting glory, but there was one moment in which Prompto was returned to a world of dark truths-the moment in which Noctis scoffed at robots being discarded like trash. 

"Who cares? They're just robots."

"Robots. Right."

"What?"

"Nothing. Just saying you're right."

He was right. Noctis Lucis Caelum, the brother he loved beyond measure, was right. No one had any business caring about a robot, least of all the men he loved with relentless abandon. Neither one of his brothers should have had anything to do with a soulless freak, and that freak had no business even looking upon the divine embodiment of beauty. As snow painted the earth outside of their windows, reminding him of a morning kissed with nutmeg and cinnamon, Prompto found himself facing the truths Ardyn shoved down his throat. The events guiding him back to his soulmates were a blur, with only Aranea's wisdom and fierce eyes lighting up those memories, but there he was nonetheless. Resting in one of the few sanctuaries they had left. Sitting on the edge of a world that had been forever changed.

Aranea's words echoed in his mind. "You're so damn stuck on seeing the world through other people's eyes, you don't know yourself," she snarled as she kept him pinned on his back. "What do you want?" What he wanted was to go back. To be with the ones that gave him life: his brothers and a charismatic, stunning chef. How he managed to get back would forever remain a blur. Whether he deserved to be with them or not was the monster riding on his shoulders in the present. Not only that, but he abandoned them when they needed him most. When Ignis needed him the most. He vanished right when Ignis was forced to lose something he'd never get back.

The photographer grimaced as though Ifrit had just plunged his claws into his side. While he was being treated to Ardyn's generosity, the man he loved beyond words fell into a world without sight. The rift between Ignis and Gladiolus surely worsened, and Noctis? So much had gone wrong when all should have remained right. 

At that moment, a chill ran through Prompto's spine. Feverish with anger, longing and grief, the chocobo wished he could rip his eyes out of their sockets and give them to Ignis. Anything would be better than being completely and utterly useless. He was a robot, after all, and what good was a robot if its parts couldn't be used to help others? He had been nothing but useless to Noctis and the others long enough. "Not the Christmas I imagined," the photographer murmured to himself, reflecting on the morning filled with nutmeg and the scent of syrup. Reflecting on how Ignis wanted to capture the spirit of the upcoming season in his pancakes. On the warmth, love and power that surged through his veins with every bite of that breakfast. The season he had spent all year looking forward to was fast approaching, ushering in snow of the purest white, but the snow only served to remind him of the truth. Of how he didn't belong. And of how the world he loved with a passion had fallen apart.

Noctis and Gladiolus were gone. Even with their world drowning in a sea of white destruction, Prompto felt the infinite glow of warm, overwhelming love. A while ago he heard the rift between Ignis and Gladious close, his three soulmates in the room with him, both swordsmen embracing each other over the complications of their duties. Before drifting off into sleep again, Prompto heard Gladiolus express his wish to take a panic-stricken, incensed Noctis out for some fresh air-maybe even a snowball fight or two. A part of the photographer knew the two of them left so he could be alone with Ignis. And there the chef was, stirring at his bedside.

A volley of blades buried themselves in Prompto's side. Ignis was waking up without his-

"Ah. You're awake, little one."

"Yeah," came the breathless, pained answer. "Hi, Iggy. The guys still outside having snowball fights?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, they are. Gladiolus has been crowned Champion of Snowball Fights, actually."

"Ah, well, good they're havin' some fun. Don't want them cooped up in here worryin' about me."

Ignis' voice turned icy-icy enough to shame Shiva's wrathful frost. "I'm not at all appreciative of the way you said that, Sunshine."

Prompto smiled as Ifrit's claws dove deeper and deeper into him. "Don't sweat the small stuff. Just don't want any of you frettin' over something like me, that's all. You should go outside and get some fresh air too. You might dethrone Gladio as King of Snowball Mountain."

"A thousand apologies, dear one, but I'm afraid the only way I'll leave you is through death. And I'll have you know I've stared Death right in the eyes quite a few times, so you'll find it rather difficult to kill me."

A hundred years of pain echoed throughout each breath Prompto took. "I'd never hurt you, Nutmeg." Noting the curiosity on Ignis' still expressive, radiant face, the blonde gunner chuckled. "It's one of your favorite things to use while you cook, so, you know, just thought I'd call you Nutmeg. In addition to Iggy, of course."

"Oh. All right then. I guess I'll refer to you as 'Snowflake'. Another one of my favorite things. Each one is breathtaking and unique. Suits you perfectly, so 'Snowflake' it is."

"I think you've been hit too many times in the head," the chocobo chuckled, the attempt at cheer weak, his chest growing heavier by the second. "You definitely need some fresh air. All of this stress is gettin' to ya, Princess."

Quiet wrath turned Ignis' voice into a blade of Hellfire. "And your habit of degrading yourself is bothersome. Forgive me, but I'm rather tired of hearing the light of my life treat himself so badly."

Prompto's eyes widened, filled with wonder and fear. "Light of your life? It's official. The great Ignis Scientia has gone completely bonkers."

The chef was anything but amused as he went on, gripping the other's hand. "Your assumption, while comical, is nothing short of aggravating. The three of us were beside ourselves with grief while you were away. Gladio, Noct and I were sick with fear, wondering where you had gone, if you had been taken away from us forever. You may be completely oblivious to your worth but you are the light that holds us together. Our soul. And if you even think of mentioning your background I'll gut you."

Ignis made no idle threats. Noctis knew that. Gladiolus knew that. Ravus Nox Fleuret found that out the hard way. Prompto thought of a billion protests but suppressed all of them, already transfixed by the meteoric anger on the chef's face. Ignis' eyes may have been closed forever, but the electric beauty of each emotion was still there, alive, breathing, screaming. "The circumstances of your birth are irrelevant," Gladiolus' sparring partner went on, gripping Prompto's hand harder. "You've done nothing but give me life from the moment I met you. You see yourself as worthless but that's how I felt without you. Lost. Helpless. Not at all worthy of my title as the Crown Prince's Guardian."

It was at that moment Ignis knocked the breath out of him again, doing something Prompto never thought he'd witness. The living, breathing miracle wrapped his arms around the chocobo and laid his forehead against his arm. "I cannot be without you, little one," were the soft, serene words that followed, just as fragile as the snow that painted the earth beyond their window. Before a breathless Prompto could come up with a response, Ignis pressed on.

"May I share something with you?"

"Yeah, sure," panted a tearful gunner, nodding. Making no effort to push Ignis away.

"I made a wish. A Christmas wish. I wished that you would remain by my side, no matter what. Would you deprive me of my wish, Snowflake?"

Still breathless, lungs screaming for air, and on the verge of sobbing, Prompto chuckled. "Do you mind me being madly, stupidly, ridiculously in love with you?"

"Would you be all right with a crippled bodyguard as your suitor?"

The chocobo shook his head vehemently, just as disgusted as a Priest of Insomnia witnessing the defacing of an Astral monument. "You aren't a 'crippled bodyguard'," he retaliated, both angry and heartbroken, still in shock, overwhelmed by tears. "You're just as bad-ass as ever. Sure, a few things have changed, but...you're still Ignis."

"This is why I need you to stay with me, Prompto."

"What do you mean?"

"When all else is dark, you remain the light. My light. My saving grace. Oh. On that note, thank you for not wanting to abandon me like a wounded canine back there in the cavern."

"Oh, don't mention it. No big deal."

"Consider us even. You didn't want to abandon me, so I won't abandon you."

A light, tearful chuckle popped out of Prompto's lips. "I take it you're still kinda peeved at Gladio, huh?"

"Not as much as I was before, to be honest with you. But we've made amends. The complications of our duties are vast, I'm afraid."

"Ignis, wanna go to the Moogle Christmas Parade with me? We'll have time for it, right?"

"Right."

"I'll be your eyes. We'll have a great time. The guys too! We'll all go. Right?"

"Right."

And in a world blanketed in snow, encased in each other's arms, the two of them fell into cleansing, pure sleep. Meanwhile-

"You know, it would be NICE if you'd stop making such BIG snowballs!"

"What's wrong, Your Highness? Thought you loved big snowballs!"

"Yeah, well, allow me to take your big snowballs and shove 'em right down your-"


End file.
